


Lean Not on Your Own Understanding

by petpluto



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2037159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petpluto/pseuds/petpluto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lianne and Veronica meet up in a diner, with Hunter, the day Logan comes home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lean Not on Your Own Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> I made use of [The Serenity Prayer](http://www.cptryon.org/prayer/special/serenity.html), along with a proverb at the bottom of that page, for title purposes.
> 
> Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me.
> 
> Characters are Rob Thomas'.
> 
> Gotta thank the [vmficrecs](http://vmficrecs.tumblr.com/tagged/fic-prompts) crew for the prompt, which helped me slog through some writer's block (DONE BEFORE JULY ENDED BOOYAH).
> 
> Oh, this is also unbeta'd. So any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

The lights of the diner are bright, reflecting off the gleaming chrome surfaces. It’s comforting, a shiny world surrounding her as she waits on Veronica.

Who is late. Lianne sighs, and drags a finger down the condensation that has collected on her glass. Veronica, her Veronica, was a punctual being. Physically incapable of not being where she said she would be when she said she would be there. This new girl, new woman, is no more her Veronica than the teenager who threw her out of that apartment years ago. She misses that girl. The sunshine and easy smiles.

Hunter grunts from his position next to her, pressing hard on his black crayon.

“Easy, darling,” she coos at him, and he blinks up at her slowly before turning back to his work, pressing just as hard as he had before. She pushes back frustrated tears. Veronica at this age was easy, eager to please. Hunter is more difficult. 

“Honey,” she tries again, but the chimes over the door sound and both she and Hunter look up expectantly, as they have the last four times. It’s a blonde. It takes her a second to figure out that it is the blonde they are waiting for. Hunter is another story. His face blossoms into the smile she craves, and he scurries over her and across the diner and into Veronica’s outstretched arms. 

“You’re late,” she reproachfully remarks as Veronica slides into her side of the booth, and gestures for Hunter to come back to her.

Veronica’s face shutters as Hunter slides under the table and back to his crayons. “Yeah. I had to drop Logan’s car off for him, and took a cab over here. He’ll be joining us as soon as he can.”

“Logan Echolls?” She shakes her head. “I thought -”

“He doesn’t get a lot of time between tours,” Veronica cuts her off. “And I’m not going to waste any of it.”

On you, Lianne silently fills in and blinks rapidly again. The waitress slides over, refills her water, and Veronica graces her with a friendly grin, and orders a cup of coffee and a chocolate milk for Hunter. She bristles at the intrusion, but Hunter grins happily at Veronica. And she shoots him a fond smile back.

Which fades when she turns to face her mother, Lianne ruefully thinks.

“So. You wanted to talk.” Veronica tells her. “Talk.”

She breathes in, breathes out. Maintain control. “I’ve been getting the feeling that you aren’t happy I’ve hired your father to help me with this whole mess.”

“Getting favors from my father,” Veronica corrects. Tilts her head, lips drawn and eyes hard. “‘Hired’ implies payment.”

Lianne swallows. “He offered.”

“Yeah, and it was too hard to say no.”

She straightens up. “You don’t know anything about that. You got all of your information from your father. You’ve only heard his point of view. You never asked for mine.”

She hears the pitiful tone in her own voice, and grimaces. This is exactly the kind of thing she knows Veronica resents, and just like clockwork Veronica glares at her. “You want to do this, now? With your other kid here to, what, act as a buffer?”

She gathers Hunter to her side. He immediately works on squirming away. She misses the days when he would just stay, content to be in her arms. She misses being able to inhale that smell of baby. Her baby. Mutters, “You’re always doing that. You’re always trying to see me as the worst person.”

She watches Veronica’s eyes narrow. Watches her pitch forward, mouth opening slightly, before pushing herself back into the cushions of the booth as the waitress waltzes up with her tray. A cup of coffee appears before her daughter, and the chocolate milk is placed in front of Hunter, cap and straw included. Watches Veronica nod her thanks.

Veronica picks up a spoon and stirs the coffee, eyes focused on it rather than her. “Alright. Tell me the story where you’re the tragic hero. Tell me the story where you find the guy you want to spend the rest of your life with, decide to marry him, and I don’t warrant an invite. And then how you came back to town - and got some free private eye work done.”

“You were older,” she sputters. “You didn’t need me anymore. You made that quite clear.”

Her daughter’s hard smile doesn’t falter. “You're not doing that. I'm not letting you turn this around and have me be the one who feels not good enough.”

“When did I ever make you feel not good enough?” Veronica winces, and it’s her indication she’s gotten louder - too loud. Embarrassing her daughter, and herself. She pulls her hands into her lap and twists them. Recites the first bit of the serenity prayer in her head, gets through the wisdom to know the difference, and looks back up at her daughter. Who has pulled a pen out of her purse and is now drawing with her son. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

“Better than walking out and sticking me with the check, I guess,” Veronica shoots out almost off-handedly. “But if you really want to know - those times when you were too drunk to pick me up from things like soccer practice. Or when you left, the first time. And the second time. Or when you accused me of just trying to ruin your happiness. Just off the top of my head, I’d say all those things would qualify.”

“Veronica.” She tries again. Tries to get out what she’s been meaning to since Veronica first walked back into her life. Since she saw her baby girl all grown up, and closed off. “We can’t - I can’t - change the past. But I’d like for us to have a relationship again. Our mother daughter relationship again. Come on, honey. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

She leans forward and grasps one of Veronica’s hands, and Veronica stiffens but lets her. “It sounds like a fairy tale. And I don’t really have a lot of use for those anymore.”

The silence is only made more pronounced by the scritching of Hunter’s crayon along the page. She watches as he nudges Veronica to continue, and she does.

“We need to have a relationship,” Veronica tells her, “because I’m not giving up my time with Hunter. And,” she drawls out, considering her words, “I wouldn’t be adverse to that relationship being less… strained. You are my mother. But I don’t think we’re ever going to have our old mother-daughter relationship again. We are not going to be giggling in a kitchen about boys or clothes or anything else like that.”

It stings.

“Veronica, I am trying.”

The door’s bell jingles again, and this time it’s her daughter straining to see who is on the other side of the door. The smile that erupts across her face is a sight Lianne hasn’t seen in over a decade. She certainly didn’t see it when Aurora had gone missing. She hadn’t seen it when she’d shown up in at Mars Investigations. She hadn’t seen it during any of her interactions with Hunter. It hadn’t even been present when she had returned home, the first time, to an apartment that felt like an alien world.

No, the smile she wanted for herself - that was only granted to Logan Echolls.

Who looked… Different. It was the best way she could describe him. She’d kept up on his goings on through the tabloids over the years. She would get made fun of - Tanner would make fun of her, she reminds herself, willing her lip not to tremble - for doing so. He and some of their friends, his friends, accused her of having a crush. But she’d continued to scan the pages, because this was the boy who she remembered jumping on her couch in an effort to vault himself across the living room faster. Who was big and boisterous, who was every bit the Hollywood starlets’ child. She knew him, not like the other people knew him, only from the tabloids and exposes. She knew him when he was gangly and plump cheeked. All knees and elbows and bright smiles and wide arms. Had made him dinner. Had stared into his eyes as she had sipped on a glass that was not full of water.

This Logan seemed as far away from the one in her memory as this Veronica was from her Veronica. He moved fluidly still, but contained. All of that energy, gone.

Veronica makes up for that, though, and is up and out of her side of the booth and in his arms. It’s… uncomfortably odd, sitting in this booth, with her son, watching the daughter who would barely hold hands with Duncan Kane in front of her parents press her entire length against this man. Seeing her pull herself up onto him, holding on to his shoulders as he wraps his arms tightly around her waist.

The thought that she probably doesn’t do this around Keith floats through her head, and the tiny ache she’s felt since Veronica walked unperturbed and unruffled back into her life and casually flipped her world upside down is inflamed.

And Logan, she watches him come alive. His face lights up, and he softens. And swings her as he walks over to their booth.

“The sight of me make you weak in the knees?” she hears him ask, and watches Veronica’s head nod into his shoulder.

“Of course,” she replies. “This had nothing to do with free transportation back to the table.”

He laughs, low and sweet, and the ache comes back. She can’t remember a time when she was like that, with anyone. High school, she thinks. Jake. Not Keith. Not Jake all the times after that. Not Tanner. Just high school. She reaches for her water to clear the lump in her throat, to clear away the building resentment that her daughter gets this when she doesn’t.

The resentment that reaches a fever pitch when Logan deposits Veronica softly on her side of the booth, greeting her with nothing more than a swift nod and a tight mouth before he turns his attention to Hunter.

“And who’s this?” He lilts. 

Veronica grins. “This,” she tells him, “is Hunter. Hunter, this is my - Logan. He’s very special to me.”

Hunter gives a solemn nod, and Lianne watches as he puts down his crayon and looks this newcomer up and down. She takes comfort in the fact that Hunter doesn’t warm up to people quickly. She takes comfort in the fact that Hunter won’t be charmed. Won’t continue to pull away from her.

“Why are you dressed like that?” her son asks, his little eyebrows pulling together, his mouth twisting.

She watches as Logan shifts. Bends so that he is closer. “I just came from work,” he says casually. “I fly planes. For… America.”

Veronica’s giggles float over them, and Lianne watches helplessly as Logan glares at her daughter and mouths something about kids to her.

“Logan’s in the navy,” Veronica explains, taking over, and Hunter looks at her suspiciously.

“That has boats,” he informs them.

Logan raises his eyebrow. “Ships, actually. And on those ships, some planes. So, that’s why I’m wearing this.” He shifts. “Maybe you and Veronica could come down, and we could look at the ships and planes together.”

Hunter grins. “We can do that?”

Logan stretches an arm across the top of the booth, and Veronica slides closer to him. “Yeah. We can look at some of the ships. For Fleet Week.”

“Sounds nice,” Veronica murmurs, and Hunter bounces beside her but worlds away at the same time. 

“What are you drawing there?” Logan asks, and Hunter pushes his drawing closer to him and hunches over the table as he babbles his explanation.

It hurts, seeing the three of them discussing this drawing, no one making an attempt to include her. She’s unnecessary. Her hands twitch, and she reaches for her water glass again. Sips the cool water. Thinks of accepting hardships. She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to accept this, accept her daughter having this new life. Accept her daughter wanting her son and her son wanting her daughter, and neither of them wanting her.

Her hand quivers, and she places it in her lap. 

She should go to a meeting. She remembers the first one she went to in Neptune, after her lackluster return to the town that seemed determined to strip everything she worked for from her. Trying to work through wanting that drink after the truth came out, trying to work through this utter helplessness when it came to Veronica. 

She should go to a meeting, she thinks. But that would mean finding someone to watch Hunter. And that someone would probably end up having the last name of ‘Mars’. And she can’t have her ex-husband watch her son, like the sainted figure their daughter sees him as, and she won’t leave him with Veronica. 

Because an hour or more is all it will take until he’s not hers anymore. Until his eyes will look at her like Veronica’s do. After all of her hard work. After all of her time and energy. After she has rebuilt her life, without the drinking and without the lies, Veronica still can’t look at her without seeing who she was. And she just wants to know -

“Why can’t you just get over it?” Three heads snap her way, and it occurs to her that was out loud.

Veronica’s mouth opens and closes a few times, and then she shakes her head. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Lianne watches as Logan grips her hand. “Veronica -”

“It’s just the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” Logan’s face pinches, and Lianne wonders if he hears it too - It’s just my mother. I’ll be alright.

Veronica slithers out of the booth, and her shoes squeak against the linoleum. A door opens and shuts. Lianne doesn’t look at Hunter. Doesn’t look at anyone. Stares at the scratches in the table. JM&PB 4Eva. Blocky. Bold.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” It’s said without malice. Without any emotion, really. She looks up, startled, into the placid face of her daughter’s - she doesn’t even know what to call him. Glances at Hunter, who seems completely preoccupied with his drawing.

She finds her voice “You don’t get to scold me. I have been trying, and I have been working at making my life something I’m proud of for so long -”

“You know, I’ve seen this song and dance so many times that it’s more than a little boring for me to listen to all the way through,” he interrupts. Pushes back from the table, back into the cushions, mirroring Veronica. “So here’s what’s going to happen - Veronica’s going to come out of that bathroom, and you’re going to apologize, and then you’re going to say goodbye. And we’re going to leave. And the next time you want to explain yourself, you’re going to find some other outlet. Write it down or go to a karaoke night or whatever. But don’t put this on her.” He pauses, and then stares straight into her eyes. “And the next time you get together, it’s about her, not you. Because you’re not my priority. Veronica is.”

She glares at him, and bites down on her lip, hard. ‘Be reasonably happy’ echoes around her head, and she hates that stupid prayer and everything it represents. 

“You don’t get to just take Hunter to Fleet Week,” she spits out. “I’m his mother.”

“And what a great job you’re doing,” Logan returns. “Especially with the probable jail time in your future.”

It hangs there, and her mouth drops open. She doesn’t know when she lost all control, she really doesn’t. Veronica, of course, chooses this moment to walk back up to the table. She turns and looks at her daughter, and closes her mouth. Tries to come up with something - anything - to say that isn’t an apology. That doesn’t capitulate to Logan Echolls.

Hunter gets there before she can. “Mom says I can’t come with you guys to see the boats.”

She flushes, and Veronica’s face crumbles and then hardens again. 

“Don’t,” she warns, and Lianne cowers. “Don’t say anything right now. Just - listen. That little boy is the only - “ She pauses, breathes. “You can’t fix what’s wrong between us. Maybe not at all and definitely not like this. Think about that.”

Logan’s stare intensifies, and Veronica nudges him. He stands, and she slides into the booth, all the way to the end, and slides partially on to the table. Hugs Hunter, and kisses his forehead. Whispers, “I’ll see you, okay?”

“Promise?”

Veronica nods. “Promise.”

She turns to Logan. “Ready to roll?”

“Ready, and willing,” he answers. “See ya, kid.”

Her son puffs some air out from between his lips, and slumps down in the booth. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” Logan tells him. “But I’ll see you soon, buddy. And maybe we’ll get you other color crayons.”

“I have other colors!” Hunter protests, and Lianne holds back the urge to grab him and run as Logan laughs. He turns to her, smile gone. “Lianne.”

It’s there. This threat, promise, whatever it is. She rails against giving in, hates herself for it. And then stands and faces her daughter.

“Veronica, I - I’m… Call me, and we’ll talk about Hunter going with you. To see the ships,” she tells her stiffly. Veronica nods.

“Okay. Bye.”

She slips her arm through Logan’s, and Lianne clenches her jaw as he leans over and brushes a kiss on the side of her head. She didn’t get a hug. Not even a thank you. Nothing.

She looks down, and sees the bills on the table. Left by Logan, most likely. It’s another blow, the idea that she can’t cover coffee and chocolate milk for her kids. 

She hates this town. Hunter tugs on her hand, and she breathes in and out a few times before she looks at him. “Darling, why did you tell Veronica that?”

He looks balefully up at her. “Can we go home now? I want to play with my drums.”

She breathes in and out. Live on day at a time, she thinks. Enjoy the moments. Her son is coming home with her. Her son is still hers, all hers. She bends down. “Yes. Let’s go home.”


End file.
